Cordelia's Grief.

Cordelia’s Grief.

Published at Verse- Virtual

Here I disclaim all my paternal care

-King Lear, Act 1, Scene 1.

Should I complain?

My Lord’s domain is beautiful,

sunnier than home,

filled with mountains, rivers

and vineyards on the rolling hills.

My Lord, great France, is kind and loving.

I want for nothing.

Yet grief fills my nights.

Then I remember, my sisters,

our young lives together.

What hardened your hearts?  

What stole your sisterly affection?

But most I grieve for you, my father.

When I was young I lay in your arms,

trusted you and felt safe there

yet you have cruelly banished me.

What happened to your judgment?

What happened to your love?

I want to let you go.

I want this nightly grief to leave.

The heart-hurt is deep.

I want to be free of it.

But every night, in my very essence,

that place where my spirit dwells,

heavy chains of blood and love

bind me to the full sad weight of you.

O my father, my father,

what happened to you?

Was it only time that diminished you

or did my love make me blind?

Sun Dance.

If only I could 

throw words 

onto the page

like Jackson Pollock 

threw paint onto the canvas,

a kind of divine anarchy,

beautiful chaos

celebrating nothing 

but itself,

iridescent,

dripping molten stalactites

in flouro red, orange and green

descending

over the primordial world

aeons before 

the red blaze cooled

and life emerged,

slowly,

laboriously,

from the cobalt blue.

Published at One Sentence poems

Home

The butcher bird pours
liquid ripple of song
into the blue sky.

The rosella dips his red head
at the stone bird-bath
and drinks in alert delight.

We sit on the verandah.
Your eyes smile.
I reach for your hand.

Published in Naturewriting